The Bias of the Sun
by PlayingtheBone
Summary: 3 years after superheroes were banned, Nightwing comes into contact with some of his old allies, who will need his help to uncover a conspiracy, and, perhaps, give him the closure he needs.
1. Chapter 1

A Video Log:

_A camera faces towards a sheer cliff wall. It is dimly lit, and voices murmur and resound, echoing into the highly attuned microphone. _Richard "Dick" Grayson _steps into view, wearing a pair of dark glasses and barely visible in the lack of light. He clears his throat._

"Today's date is July 1. Beginning of one of the worst weeks a vigilante has. Illegal firecrackers, fights, drinking. No one wants that. Me least of all."

_He pauses, clears his throat again. This time, when he speaks his voice is hoarse, choked with emotions_.

"It's been three years since the government shut down the superheroes operation. They insisted that only fully human vigilantes would be allowed to roam the streets, after all of the destruction and violence we'd caused. All alien or metahumans were detained for questioning, and registered in the witness protection program. I haven't kept touch with any of the former Titans, except for Roy, of course. Hell, I don't even know where any of them are. After… Bat-I mean, Bruce's accident, I lost track of them- it's harder than you think, trying to remember even your closest allies after an incident like that. Clark and Jon still come over to see him- they're no longer superheroes, but average American citizens, but myself, being a non-meta, can go out and be a more than average 'good Samaritan'. I'm Nightwing. And it'll be a long time until I hang up the spandex for good."

"Last night, Red Arrow- that's Speedy, or "Roy"- and I had a bit of a run-in with a superpower. First one I've seen in ages. I just know there's a conspiracy- when the Titans and JL disbanded, all of the superhuman villains disappeared as well, which is something Roy and I have been investigating lately… Anyway, we fought it with the help of a new group of vigilantes, one we can't seem to track. There are six of them, always dressed in full face masks so that we can never see their faces. The tabloids have been calling them "The Diamonds", since the only bit of flesh anyone's ever seen on 'em had a diamond tattoo that hasn't been seen again. That's all we know, because they never speak, and disappear without a trace afterwards. Another thing I have to look into."

_Dick rubs his eyes blearily, glancing at what we assume is a clock before staring back at the camera._

"It's late. I have a rendezvous with Batgirl, Red Arrow, and Robin planned tonight. Better get sleep while I can. Richard out."


	2. Chapter 2

Red Arrow frowned from his perch on a gargoyle as he smoothed down his uniform, staring almost eagerly at the door of a warehouse. His hands fiddled with an arrow, spinning it on its point, sliding a finger down its fiberglass shaft, ruffling the bright feathers at its end. Nightwing was late, he thought. Probably, he smirked, after a late night tryst with Batgirl.

"Oy, Red!"

The obnoxiously pre-adolescent voice of Tim Drake, Boy Wonder, broke him out of his reverie, and he leaned back onto the concrete of the building's roof. Tim's face suddenly appeared in his line of sight, smiling cheekily. That boy had much to learn, he decided.

"Where's Nightwing? Helping some old lady cross the street?"

Red Arrow ignored the boy as best he could, focusing on the GPS in his hand. Last time he and Nightwing had encountered this particular metahuman, they had had just enough time for Dick to toss a tracker on her. There she was- the luminescent red dot traveling across the screen at a disturbingly fast pace. 30 feet from the warehouse door. 20 feet. 10 feet. Suddenly, the hiss of acid met Red Arrow's ears, and a hole began to appear in the side of the warehouse, like a flame burning slowly through paper.

Tim Drake was surprisingly quiet, maybe from fear, maybe from excitement. Red Arrow motioned down towards the figure below them.

"That's her."

"The one we're after?"

"Yep."

Tim appraised her. A long whistle.

"She's hot."

And she was. Her hair was very long and dark, set with two pale deer-in-the-headlight eyes and the graceful and innocent face of a young woman. She wore a Victorian era-style dress, so inefficient that Tim snickered.

"Seriously? This should be easy."

"Looks can be deceiving" said a new voice. Tim leaped into the air, striking a fighting stance before he saw his predecessor and Batgirl standing before him with bemused expressions.

He blinked.

"Sorry, Nightwing- I thought you were the real villainess."

Nightwing raised a dark brow at the young boy. Tim was nothing like the Robin he had been. Sure, he had been cocky at times, but also paranoid and distrusting. Tim, too green to know any better, fought with less tact and strategy, throwing himself into the fray before he assessed the situation.

Batgirl, red hair flowing behind her, gestured towards the ground.

"Watch."

Tim started in horror as the girl produced a vial from somewhere on her person, and tipped it bak into her mouth. She began to bubble, welts appearing on her unblemished skin with grotesque speed. In his shock, the birdarang he had been holding slipped from his fingers over the edge of the building, going down, down until it hit the ground with a faint clatter. Her head swiveled in its direction. The liquidy grey eyes looked up the side of the building, scanning its surface until it hit the terrified expression of the boy wonder himself.

"Shit."

A silent scream burst from the girl's mouth as she lunged, hard, in his direction, sending-was that ACID?- in his direction. He hit the ground before he had time to think.

Another projectile coming his way. He dodged, landing with an OOMPH on top of Red Arrow.

The older man stared him down. "Get it now?"

With a shove and a flip, Tim was left on the ground as Red Arrow, Batgirl, and Nightwing sprang out, hurling their respective weaponry at the villainess.

The woman lashed out another stream of acid, catching the archer on the arm before hitting the rooftop with a sizzle. Red Arrow grunted in pain, sending a long stream of profanities arching into the air as he clutched the wound, blood leaking quickly through his fingers and spattering the ground in rusted stains.

He shoved his body away from the antagonist, wincing just as Batgirl vaulted seamlessly over yet another projectile, sending several batarangs soaring overhead.

Nearby, Tim, having joined in the fight, curled on the ground and nursing a shallower wound on his back. The boy reached into his belt for a birdarang, sending it flying towards the acid girl, before crawling over towards Red Arrow.

"Guess you were right" he said, his voice laced with anguish.

Eventually, even the agile Batgirl yelped in pain as acid splashed up against her leg, until Nightwing was the only one left standing, nursing minor wounds and trying to keep his distance from the villainess.

Too late. A bolt of acid, hitting his abdomen and sending him careening across the rooftop, leaving him vulnerably hanging of the edge. He blinked his eyes, banishing the black spots dancing in them. He frowned as darkness overwhelmed his vision.

A hand on his shoulder, inexplicably, and the feel of gloves around his waist, and arms, dragging him back from the edge. Pressure on his wound.

He cracked open his eyes to see a figure, no, 6 figures, cloaked in black standing over him before they parted swiftly and turned their attention to the hissing, spitting girl. He saw them dive (dive!) off the rooftop, before dragging himself over to the edge, just to catch a glimpse of the mysterious group. One of them, a girl, if he was any judge of body, was already down, a hand plunged into her side with a male member supporting her and dragging her away.

A man, impossibly fast, caught the tail end of an acid bolt, hitting the wall with a sickening CRACK. Still the others fought, and he found himself enraptured in the unspoken coordination the four remaining fighters had.

One- another woman, did an intricate twist, sending a disk, similar to his own projectiles, flying towards the struggling acid-girl before she caught the hands of a male figure, who flung her hard overhead so that she could launch yet another assault in her opponent's direction.

The girl rebounded off of the warehouse, rolling to cushion the blow as she hit the ground, falling right into the path of an acid bolt when, suddenly, another member yanked her back by the arm, so that the acid left only a shallow wound across her stomach.

As the onslaught continued, Acid, as Nightwing decided to refer to her as, began stepping back, looking unsure through her substantially widened eyes. She flung forth several more lengths of acid before, intelligently, running for her life, even as she dissolved the obstacles before her.

Almost immediately after, the Diamond crew ran in the opposite direction, moving in the opposite direction as if retreating. Before they disappeared into the shadows of Gotham city, one of them, that last girl who had been injured in the stomach, turned and- was she looking at him?-gave the rooftop one fleeting glance before she melded into the darkness of the night.

Nightwing closed his eyes tiredly. The lure of sleep and rest were far too overpowering for him to resist now.

Red Arrow moved in from where Babs was in the process of bandaging Tim. Looking back over his shoulder at the boy, he came to a decision.

"Batgirl, take Robin back to the mansion. It's getting too dangerous out here. I know a place I can get help for Nightwing."

With a curt nod, she stood shakily, and allowed Tim to lead her away.

As Richard surrendered to unconsciousness, one question remained on his mind as the two men moved slowly forward:

"Where are you taking me?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Where are you taking me?"

Two figures navigated across the vast maze of Gotham's industrial rooftops, trudging shadows that modulated and merged with each step.

Nightwing raised his head wearily, an arm draped across Red Arrow's back, and the other wrapped across his torso, the fabric dark with blood.

"I-I can't make it…"

A shudder left his mouth, a futile attempt to even his hard breaths.

Red Arrow forged stolidly ahead, his brow creased with the burden of his friend as he took another step. He paused, swiveling to glare at Nightwing with the reprimanding care of a headmaster. When he spoke, his voice was neutral.

"You'll make it. It's only one more block- we'll be safe when we reach them."

"Them?"

Nightwing could feel Roy's frown.

"Stop asking questions," the man muttered, running a hand through his shock of crimson hair.

A silence, palpable and insecure, cloaked the two vigilantes as they dropped down to street level. They paused before a narrow door, embedded innocuously amongst the flashy high-society boutiques.

"Mercenary Reporters…you've got questions? We'll get answers…"

Richard laughed, a dry hollow cough that sent a searing burn through his stomach.

"It's always the reporters, isn't it Roy?" he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

Another glare.

The two men crept through the door soundlessly, the vague creak of the hinges a deafening roar in the thick quiet.

click.

The fluorescent glow of numerous bulbs filled the room, revealing the gleam of mahogany and brass as Richard's blood dripped slowly on the tastefully chosen, possibly expensive, rug.

In the back, an alcove concealed a door, industrially metallic in stark contrast to the sophisticated interior décor.

A muffled voice, strangely familiar, floated spontaneously into the air, permeating the quiet with crisp tones.

"Dammit Toni, stay still!"

Roy dragged the faltering Nightwing in the door's direction, his posture straightening as he strode quickly towards his goal, grasping the handle and flinging it open with a CLANG!

The voice reached from the dim corridor beyond, resounding dissonantly against the walls.

"What the-!"

Nightwing, his mind dulled by blood loss, strained to listen for the voice, for a recognizable face beyond Roy's impassive expression.

Ten feet.

The footsteps drew closer, marked by the distorted shadow quickly moving across the wall.

Nine. Eight…

A voice, honeyed and low and far unlike the first, sliced through the air, a projectile aimed towards the two men.

"Who are you? State your business!"

The subtle _click_ of a gun sounded lightly throughout the hallway.

Roy spoke swiftly and urgently as he recited the requisite password, his voice clear in the darkened hallway.

"We come…bearing wounds and seeking solace."

He reached over his back to draw an arrow, sliding it across the floor towards the hidden figure.

Garth slipped out the shadows.

"Then come."


	4. Chapter 4

Darkness.

Richard awoke to whiteness and bright lights and a strangely familiar blotch of pink and red hair leering at him from above.

He blinked his eyes, propped himself up in denial of the numbing fire in his abdomen and the pulsating migraine thudding through his brain.

Focus!

A grin amassed with freckles and accentuated by a mop of defiantly bright hair appeared in his line of site.

"Hey Dick! We were wondering when you'd wake up!"

Richard, eyes glazed over and sluggish due to a massive absence of blood blinked again.

"W-Wally? Is that you? Is that really you?"

A new voice, girly and bubbling, joined in, accompanied by short cut bubblegum hair.

"Sure is, hon!"

What?

As his eyes registered his surroundings, a door slid open, allowing several other figures into the room.

Wally's insatiable smile grew wider as he recited their names.

"Garth, Roy, and Isaiah- look! He's awake!" he crowed cheerfully.

The three men nodded brief greetings as Richard attempted to speak, bewildered by the sudden reappearance of his lost friends.

"Roy…What is this?"

The person in question stood solemnly back, relief evident in his eyes. He shrugged evasively.

"Garth says he's going to explain everything to you."

The smooth voice he had heard before cut in purposefully, accompanied by the familiar face of the amphibious prince.

"Let's get started."

Richard narrowed his eyes slightly as Garth continued, his voice brisk, crisp, and oblivious to his ward's utter confusion.

"First and foremost; physically, you are completely healed. Your nerves, however, will still be registering pain and discomfort for some time, so you'll need to move slowly to adjust them."

Silence.

"I'm going to help you get up, and I'll take you around the headquarters."

Richard began to open his mouth to speak, but the man before him continued on.

"Don't ask questions until the end. I'll tell you everything I'm authorized to tell you, but _that's it_."

Garth reached around Richard's back and propped him up, eyeing him cautiously for any visible stress.

He groaned as the prince helped him ease into a clean pair of sweats and a t-shirt.

_White_, he thought, _Everything is white._

Garth led him into a hallway very much different from the stark simplicity of the room. It was dark and unkempt, concrete lined with pipes whose mysterious content congealed about various leaks, illuminated by the weak shudders of bare bulbs hanging sparsely from the ceiling. As they walked, he began to speak.

"We're what the press calls 'the Diamonds'."

He gestured to a small rectangular bar tattoo over his left collar bone.

"Each of us has an identifying tattoo here that we use in case we're injured. It corresponds to our blood type, and our best donor, making it easier for us to recognize and help each other out."

He chuckled dryly.

"As you know, we took some pretty hard hits from our last conflict."

Garth stopped before a door concealed in the wall, heaving it open with a _creak_. The next room was plain and inelegant, mushroom hued and purely industrial. A laptop leaned crookedly against the wall amidst a mass of wires, poised messily on a plastic table. He sat carefully on a dowdy grey couch, motioning for Richard to do the same.

"We're now a government run facility. As you can see, we're low on funds."

"When metahumans were banned, we tried to petition for our rights. It didn't work, but the government said we could continue if we agreed to use only manmade weaponry and we caught rogue metahumans. And of course, being good, law-abiding citizens, we promise not to apply our "abilities" in our line of work."

Another wry laugh.

"We were also supposed to keep our identities safe, but Roy found out. We're still not sure how he figured it out, but he did, the bastard. And then he decided to drag you into this."

He growled slightly.

"There are six of us: Me, Isaiah, Toni, Jen, Wally, and Raven."

Richard's carefully maintained impassivity shattered as he launched himself at Garth, ignoring the burning sensation spreading quickly through his body.

"You're all Titans? Every damn one of you was a Titan?"

Garth held him back easily as Richard struggled weakly.

"Yes," he answered conversationally.

"When we found out about the relocation, we had trouble adjusting- after all, very few of us had anywhere to go- Jen's considered a delinquent, Isaiah and Toni are alien half-breeds, Azarath was destroyed- and, well…me, I'm banned from entering Atlantis."

He released the fatigue ridden man from his grasp.

"Normally, Raven would be explaining this all, but she's busy healing Toni. She's as close to a leader as we can get."

"Can I talk to her?"

Garth shook his head emphatically.

"She said she didn't want to see to you and that as soon as you recuperated, you'd have to leave."

He grinned, slightly.

"She also said that if you breathed a word about what goes on here, she'd pitch you off the side of Bruce Wayne's manor."

The silence returned full force as the two men shared knowing glances.

Garth stood abruptly, leading Richard back to the doorway.

"Why doesn't she want to see me?"

The Atlantean shrugged easily, but his calm demeanor seemed shattered momentarily.

"She doesn't trust you. Not after Kori."

Richard paled swiftly, his vivacity crumbling into a subdued resignation.

Garth glanced briefly in his direction before turning awkwardly away to pry open yet another decrepit door.

Weapons both old and new were stacked efficiently in cupboards, ranging from standard handguns to a sleek looking silver thing that ended in a violent stiletto tip.

"We're given whatever we need to subdue our opponents by any means possible. They've been getting more and more dangerous, moving into public grounds, and we have to stop them with violent means, since we can't use our powers."

He turned seriously to face Richard.

"We don't try to hurt anyone," he said defensively, "we try to stop them, but the supervillains nowadays are violent and prepared to kill. It's harder to do our jobs without strong- or deadly- force, and even worse trying to subdue our own abilities at the same time."

Garth tugged at a cabinet on the opposite side of the room, and it gave way, bright light oozing from the cracks. He smirked a little triumphantly, pulling the trapdoor open with a flourish.

"And now, the main headquarters."

It was big and bright.

Bigger and brighter than the slummy sewer-esque rooms they had just walked in from.

The sides were neatly wallpapered in a grey that emanated warm light, brought on by the rather chic bare bulbs hanging from the low ceiling.

A couch in a coordinating blue color rested against a wall, and panels of glossy screens covered the walls.

A monstrous table, metallic and circular, took up the most room, the Napoleon of furniture, and around it lounged Wally, Jennifer, and a strangely familiar young woman with wild frizzy black hair poking out behind a makeshift gauze band.

Her eyes lit up as Richard approached.

"Richard! I heard you were here!"

Somewhere beyond them, Wally and Jen were quietly snickering.

He stuttered, racking his brain for a name to match the strange New Zealander accent.

"Argent?" he asked cautiously.

She flashed a toothy grin.

"Yep. Toni, actually. Short for Antonia, but that's not practical."

His eye was drawn towards the circular tattoo featured prominently above her collarbone.

Toni followed his gaze and shrugged.

"As Garth has probably told you, we've all got these tattoos, see? The one everyone's talking about is Jinx's."

Wally suddenly appeared at Richard's shoulder, a hand loosely slung around a windblown Jen's waist.

He ruffled her hair affectionately.

"That's my girl!"

Her fist collided with his arm as he yelped in pain, coaxing the first smile onto Richard's face.

A throat cleared from a distance away.

Wally glanced over at the testy Atlantean, his face falling instantly.

"You've got to go," he said quietly, just as Garth's fingers closed about Richard's neck.

"You can't be here."


	5. Chapter 5

The sun streamed merrily through the windows as Richard came to.

He glanced around blearily at the crisp sheets, the soft honey-gold light filling the room, and the pale watercolor picture opposite his bed.

_His _bed.

He was back at the mansion, not in some dark cavernous space hidden behind fancy high-class shops.

Richard narrowed his eyes at the surreal memory and winced as he felt the aching need to talk to Raven.

He would.

_That office, _he thought, _that's where I'll start._

Night fell slowly on Gotham, the first tendrils of darkness creeping, caressing the skyline and flowing softly onto the brilliant poppy-reds and lemon-yellows that dragged behind, evidence of a sweet summer day- a day spent poring over the computer in a dimly lit, underground cavern.

Evidently, Mercenary Reporters and Co. had sprung up a year before the Titans broke up, and was run by one Sarah Simms, a former teacher and budding author who had used a very minor law to set up the company through government funding. The building, formerly a civil service center, had come with all the assets- including the back rooms.

Richard had frowned when he had read the woman's name. It was familiar, he thought.

But then, everything seemed vaguely related now, and the likelihood that she knew the secrets of the people she hosted was fairly low.

He sighed, stretching his arms over his head languidly as he made his way down to the Batcave.

When Bruce had finally given him full control of the cavern, the Batman had been in the hospital, just given the news that he had been paralyzed from the waist down.

They had pulled him out of the rubble, and despite the knowledge that he would never walk again, Bruce had smiled as he clasped Richard's hand in his own, aware that somewhere under the crumbling building, the Joker was dead, never to return and terrorize the innocent.

And that had been that.

Richard had ascended to fill the massive seat of the dark hero, the name Nightwing branded onto him like a scar when he refused to adopt the title of his mentor.

He groaned tiredly as he pulled on the tight spandex uniform, checking the monitor.

_Good_, he thought. _No crimes, so I can investigate that building._

_WITHOUT Roy_, he remembered grimly, _He wouldn't approve of this._


	6. Chapter 6

The sky was full and black by the time Richard broke into the office, having spent the first hours scouting for a glimpse of the elusive Diamond Crew, or the blond haired owner.

The neat typed lettering spelled out the name, tiny black flecks forming _Sarah Simms_ at the bottom of the frosted glass window.

He picked the lock, the click-click of metal hitting metal booming in his ears as he entered.

There, the door in the back, with a sign reading 'Employees only' in bold red.

A quick oiling to silence its violent squeaks.

Richard stepped cautiously into the metallic corridor, thanking God that he had gotten rid of the terribly inefficient steel-toed combats that had kept him grounded in his years as Robin.

He peered carefully around the corner, a batarang clenched in his fist just in case.

_Empty_, Richard thought, breathing softly into the foreboding passageway.

He walked forward, slowly, slowly…

_Creak…_

The front door opened slowly and painfully, followed by the sandpaper-wisp voice he could still identify as Raven's.

"Who's there?"

He sucked in a deep gasp of air and pinned his back to the closest wall, silently shifting further into the tunnel.

"I know someone's here," Raven declared, "I can _feel_ it, and it is most certainly _not_ the psyche of an ally."

Another step, farther away from the empath.

"Step out, or I'll have no choice but to arrest you-painfully."

Richard slid further away, struck with the sudden thought that he was not only _teasing_ a highly trained combatant- one who knew his secrets, at that, but that he was also moving closer to her home, her haven. A reckless rodent seeking refuge in the den of a cobra. A mongoose that stood no chance in the dwelling of its aggressor.

_Shit, _he cursed to himself. He had been hoping no one would be there.

"Get out while you still can, _Dick_."

Richard ran.

If he could reach safety, reach Wally and Jen and Toni, and even Garth, he would be safe, safer than confronting his formidable once-colleague.

He hadn't counted on the fact that, in this government authorized environment, Raven would actually _use_ her powers.

As such, he was unprepared when a familiar dreamlike chill reverberated through him, manifesting itself as a violently grotesque blackness, jagged edged and menacing, dissipating into a figure he knew well, crackling formidably with energy.

Richard thought he had never seen anything so beautiful.

He took on a defensive stance resolutely. If he was going to be punished for trespassing, he was going to earn her respect again, if not her trust.

"Ra-" he began, but in one swift motion, she had tossed a hissing spitting projectile across the floor, which-

Phwoomph!

The smoke grenade expanded, releasing its noxious contents and tearing at his eyes.

He coughed, pulling from his utility belt a gas mask.

Richard blinked, searching for the woman he knew was hidden somewhere in the foggy surroundings.

There!

She had created a force field to guard herself from the smoke, and she was running, running towards him with a determined gait.

Raven leaped into the air with a strangled grunt, sending a kick towards Richard's chin.

He ducked immediately, spinning around to grab her outstretched leg and send her careening to the floor.

In return, she pressed her arms firmly to the ground, springing up to unleash a series of jabs, punctuated by elbow-gouges into his collarbone.

_Interesting_, Richard thought as he dodged her punches. _She hasn't used her powers to their full extent._

Oomph!

A hard hit to the stomach sent him reeling against the wall with a clang.

He fell to the floor as she sent another strike towards his head, instead grazing her knuckles against impersonal metal.

Richard, taking advantage of her unsuccessful punch swept his legs underneath her feet, sending her thudding to the ground as well.

They both rolled to opposing sides, glaring warily at their opponents.

Raven spoke.

"Richard…"

On hearing his name, he sprang forward eagerly.

"Raven! You-"

Thud!

She slammed a roundhouse kick into his side, clutching the wall next to her as she panted.

He crawled away from her, a hand clutching the injury as he attempted to appease the half-demon approaching him, her eyes smoldering with tangible anger.

There! An opening!

Richard struck out with the heel of his boot, hitting the insole of her foot with enough force to send her crashing down next to him. Even with the faint light and the last remnants of the grenade, he could see that where she had put her hand was wet.

He backed up a little more.

"Raven- look, I know I shouldn't have come, but I-I miss you. And I'm sorry, but right now I know you have information I _need_."

She sent another glare his way, threaded dangerously with fragments of energy lashing out from her body, and then-

Her head drooped slightly, though her eyes were still fixated on him.

She spoke softly, her voice still bearing some comforting semblance to that of the girl he knew 3 years ago.

And yet-

"I want you out of here _now._"

Raven was no longer Raven.

It was the way she held herself, the catlike grace in which she crouched on the ground, Richard decided.

It was also the way her poise emanated aggression, but her eyes were glassy, devoid of emotion.

Nightwing felt a leaden weight gather in his stomach as he recognized the expression reflected before him- the face of Deathstroke, of thugs and mercenaries, and the bitterness of bile filled his mouth.

Raven Roth, her morals dissolved under the acid, the wallowing filth of Gotham's streets, had taken control of her emotions, capable of forcing sentiment from her actions with a disturbing swiftness that made Richard wonder how often she had ended up in such situations.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, groping for his belt to ready another blade-sharp weapon.

Too late. Raven appeared above his line of site, a shadow looming dangerously over his prone form.

And then suddenly, she stepped back, the air dropping degrees as her energy formed a dark puddle about her legs.

Gone; leaving the beaten mass of her former leader to forge his way home in the brimming night.

Raven rematerialized in the soft glow of her team's center, her soul-self a stark contrast to the warmth of the room. She staggered towards the couch, noting with a start that her hands were stained a violent red as she nestled herself into its inviting cushions with a sigh, the cerulean blue of her healing ability already seeping from her skin as she sunk into a deep sleep.

She would wake up to find the world a much different place.


	7. Chapter 7

"Shit!"

The infamous Roy Harper, all long splayed-out limbs, bounded out of bed at the blaring fire truck sound of his alarm, a telltale sign that some cheapskate robber with no respect for the sleeping was out and about.

By the time Arsenal reached the scene of the crime, mass chaos had ensued.

The first thing he saw was the blaring sirens and police crowded around a body.

The second thing was that they were all standing in a very familiar doorway, the splintering glass still bearing the label "Mercenary Rep-".

His heart dropped suddenly, and he raced forward to see a disheveled Jinx weeping over the still form of…

"SELINDA!" she wailed.

Shimmer. A Hive student, who, as he remembered, had been a close friend of Jen's in her villain days.

Arsenal mentally went over the members of the Diamond Crew.

Raven was receiving medical attention at an ambulance, her expression worried.

Garth and Isaiah watching the crowd with shifty eyes.

Of course, Wally had his face buried in Jen's neck, comforting her as best he could.

And Toni-

He jumped as he felt arms around his waist, and he carefully detached Argent from her hug.

"God Toni…you look awful…What happened?"

She smoothed her bedraggled clothes down self consciously.

"That girl- Selinda. She came to us a while ago begging to see Jinx and for us to help her. And her eyes…"

Toni paused.

"It was like she was _dead_. And then Raven took one look at her and brought her in and tried to heal her. She wouldn't talk to us for days. She'd just sort of lie there…But Raven said that she was awake."

"She was just getting better, but last night these people broke in and we tried to stop them."

Toni cocked her head to the side.

"It's all a blur after that. I think…I think they _shot_ her."

Her eyes grew wide and she shivered.

"It was so bloody- Raven screamed at us to get down, but Selinda just _stood _there and Garth was pulling Jen away and then there was a machine gu-"

Toni shook her head hard.

"Oh God…" she muttered.

"They just kept shooting!"

Once Roy had finished talking to the police, he decided the first course of action would be to bring the vigilante group to his estate, where they could get much needed rest.

They all sat around the living room, eyes downcast and quiet.

"So," said Roy decisively, "Do you have any idea about who could have done this?"

Jen curled her legs under her.

"Dunno. Couldn't see 'em in the dark."

Raven nodded in agreement.

"I couldn't feel anything from them, either. But they came for her. We were just secondary targets and didn't matter so much."

She turned her violet eyes up to meet Roy's, and he was struck by how utterly cold they were.

"She was getting better. That's why they came- She was so scared of them, whoever they were."

Roy was struck by a cold realization.

"They were monitoring you guys?"

Isaiah shrugged.

"Probably."

"Wouldn't have made muchuva difference. They'da found us anyway."

"So we fight back against whoever they are. We'll need backup."

Roy glanced pleadingly towards Raven.

"Nightwing."

And the earth shook, crackled with energy. Her eyes glowed white-hot, and they were suddenly reminded of the near-infinite trans-universal power that ran deep in her veins.

"NO! I WILL NOT DEAL WITH HIM! I WILL NOT DEAL WITH THAT SUNOVAB-"

_Richard Grayson cradled a bouquet of flowers in his arms. He hadn't even asked their names, just knew that they were bright and beautiful and kind._

_There was a monument for her there, with that beaming smile and the flowing hair and the gentle eyes._

_If he squinted, he could imagine that she really was there, glowing gently at him like a celestial being._

_A guardian._

_But as soon as he reached out, touched her, she became cold and solid and not Kori._

_Just a shoddy imitation of the real thing._

_Sighing, he reached down and put the flowers at the base of the statue, where it read_

"_Starfire. A hero and a true friend. We mourn her loss."_

"_I don't know why we put that on there," a monotone voice said._

_Richard turned to see Raven, carrying her own floral bundle._

_She turned to meet his eyes._

"_She's not dead."_

_Richard closed his eyes._

"_She is. Just still breathing."_

_Surprisingly, Raven smiled widely, and threw back her head and laughed._

"_And whose fault is that?"_

"_Raven, I wouldn't have-"_

"_You wouldn't have what? Sent her out to face an enemy she couldn't fight? Used her like you used all of us that time?"_

"_she-"_

"_She's in a coma because of you! A vegetable, because you just __couldn't__ retreat- You had to send her out there, my best friend! "_

_She crumples suddenly, and Richard is rendered speechless._

"_You loved her, I could feel it! I loved her, too and you destroyed her!"_

_She threw down her flowers and tossed something at him._

_He caught it._

"_You destroyed us."_

_In his palm lay the familiar T-pin communicator._

_And she._

_And she turned._

_And she turned and left._


	8. Chapter 8

Contrary to the romantic perceptions about storms, there is also a calm that is just as significant at the end as at the beginning.

They all crawled out of the places they had taken as refuge against Raven's wrath.

She was curled up, her joints seeming oddly disfigured and unaligned in the way she lay there, with the smell of dew and a wave that had swept and scoured and purged.

It was silence.

In the end, they called on him.

After Garth had scooped Raven up and laid her in bed, comatose from her outburst, and after they had sat unhappily in the emotional aftermath, it was decided.

Regardless of her thoughts, they needed Richard- no, Robin- back.

For, despite his severe stupidity, the 6 vigilantes realized that to find the source of their troubles, they would need to consult the most experienced individual they knew.

…Which was why Nightwing, superhero extraordinaire, was seated in front of a luminescent array of screens, scrolling through pages of code that extended far into the underbelly of the internet.

Oddly, very little information had come up- merely commentary by the few savvy bloggers brave enough to post their revelations on the world wide web.

_Briinnng!_

A phone call broke through the silence, and Richard started as the automated caller ID spilled the name out in a digital monotone.

"Mark. You have information?"

The cold voice on the other side of the line sent shivers down his spine.

"Yeah. And you're not gonna like it."

"Mmhm. Okay, yeah. I'll have the money wired to your account."

Roy walked into the immense cavern just as Richard ended the conversation.

"Well?"

Dick shrugged.

"Nothing on the 'net, but an old contact of mine is pointing fingers towards STAR Labs."

"STAR? They don't even exist- leastwise, not anymore, not after-"

Roy broke off ashamedly, but Richard waved his hand nonchalantly.

"Sorry."

"It's fine. We need to focus on the mission at hand, even if STAR is at the heart of it."

His brow wrinkled briefly as he thought.

"What I don't understand is that my friend claims it's the same organization as before- but I have no notification of it, even though Bruce spent years working with STAR- I'd expect him to have gotten some kind of a notice as a benefactor."

Roy made a small sound of recognition.

"Means that whatever the hell STAR is doing, it's not something Bruce would like- no way would they let go of a donor like the Wayne Corporation unless they didn't want him to get involved."

Richard nodded in affirmation.

"That's about the sum of it."

He gestured towards a large map tacked against the wall of the cave.

"I did some black bagging- turns out that the government's been sending money to a couple of places- this being one of them. Marshall-Cain Inc, a big-name genetics company."

"So has Lex Luthor- I poked around his corporation on a hunch, and it turns out that he's been donating- generously- to this company too."

Nonchalantly, his redheaded companion shrugged.

"That's not a very good case, is it?"

"…Apparently, Marshall-Cain has been wiring money to this account."

Roy stared at the paper he had been handed in shock.

"…Oh shit."

"This is…"

"Yes."

"This is for Merc. Reporters!"

"Yes."

The arrow-laden hero scrubbed his face vigorously.

"Jeez-I know the owner- I'll drop by tonight."

He stretched his arms, and motioned as if to leave.

"Hey-"

The timbre of Richard's voice made him turn suddenly.

"Raven- is she still mad at me?"

"Yeah. Yeah, she is."

The archer draped a sympathetic arm over his friend's shoulders.

"Hey man- it wasn't your fault."

"The thing with STAR labs? With Kori?..."

"It was me."

"All me."


	9. Chapter 9

Sarah glanced anxiously at the clock and smoothed down her red dress, her hair a golden halo in the candle light.

It was odd that her boyfriend would be so late, particularly on their third anniversary, but she knew that his high-profile job was quite demanding.

Someone knocked on the door at 8:23- by that time, she had changed into a comfortable sweater and jeans, and had cleared the table of any romantic preconceptions.

She was a bit angry at this- after all, Victor was a decent enough man to call her if he was going to be late, and she'd been planning this particular surprise for quite a long time.

Even so, she was still disappointed when the figure at the door was not the muscular man she had come to love, but a slim figure sporting a rambunctious red hairdo.

"Roy."

He grinned in response, leaning against the door frame.

"Evening, Sarah. Victor at home? Because he would be soooo jealous if I was visiting his lady so late at night."

She rolled her eyes irritably, but gestured inward.

The pair had come into some sort of companionship through a mutual friendship, and, with Roy's incorrigible curiosity and her dedicated writing, the Mercenary Reporters business had flourished- particularly when the redheaded man had produced a considerable grant from the government and some donations of his own.

But despite his lighthearted jabs, his eyes were grave- this visit was for business rather than pleasure, and Sarah acquiesced immediately.

"You need something?"

Roy's smirk tugged downwards, and he drew uncomfortably close to her.

"Have you been… getting unusually large donations lately?"

Her face mirrored his, and she stepped back, trying to keep space between them.

"Yeah- from, um…Marshall-Cain- I've been writing a story about them, and I figured that they were trying to make a bribe."

The redhead frowned at this.

"A bribe?"

"I, uh, got a tip a while back from an employee who said that some of their supplies had gone missing- he'd had a late shift one night, and claimed to have seen some coworkers putting boxes from the storeroom into a van."

_The night is dark as one William Adams hangs up his company issued uniform (a size too large) and walks out, hands stuffed in his pockets._

_A quick glance to his right reveals several figures pulling boxes into a van, as well as a well-dressed woman directing them this way and that._

_Even though Will isn't particularly high up the corporate food chain, he recognizes the suited figure immediately as Cameron Marshall, head of the corporation._

"The next day he checked the inventory- several boxes of some kind of test drug- y'know, experimental stuff, was missing."

_He calls the next day- one good thing about William Adams is that his hunches are rarely wrong._

"_This is Sarah Simms of Mercenary Reporters- may we help you?"_

"_I have a tip."_

"_Sir? May I have your name?"_

_For some reason, a strong wave of conviction falls over him, and he assumes what he hopes is a commanding voice._

"_No. Just listen- I'm an employee at Marshall-Cain- we do experimental medicines, genetics research and testing…"_

"_Yes. I've heard of you."_

"_Anyway, recently things have been going missing- a couple of days ago I saw some workers and Ms. Marshall herself taking some medicines out of the building- experimental drugs, I don't even know what they were for."_

"_And you suspect her of taking from the company?"_

"_Well, my paycheck went down. A lot. And I have a hunch about this."_

"_Ahh…thank you…we'll be sure to check this out. Is there a number we can contact yo-"_

_Click._

"And then he hung up."

"And there was nothing else? Nothing came up?"

"Not much- here's the file I have on it."

The redhead thanked her and turned to leave.

"Roy-"

His hand stopped above the door knob.

"You're…a policeman, right?"

He shrugged.

"Something like that."

"…What's this about?"

Roy smiled darkly.

"I don't know yet."

"I don't know."

Richard arrived at 3 'o clock in the middle of the night at Roy's house, found the hidden key just outside the door, and let himself in.

This wasn't particularly abnormal for him to do, given their unusual nighttime careers, but he hadn't expected the soft muted trumpet of Copland drifting from the living room.

Inwardly, he winced at the oft-painful sounds- the particular piece playing he recognized as one of Raven's favorites, and he was unsurprised to see her sitting cross-legged on the couch, eating ice cream from a silver dish.

"Ah…I wasn't expecting this."

She barely glanced in his direction, apparently intent on the hefty law book splayed out over her lap.

"Raven."

Flip, turn page.

"Raven, please…"

He reached over and turned off the stereo, halting the entrance of the oboe midway.

"Copland's Quiet City. I remember. Your favorite."

The empath-former-goth-girl's figure turned away from him a little bit petulantly- you could never really tell from behind, but just the _way_ she did it-

"Yes. Yes it was."

Was.

He remembers now, the soft California Christmas on which he had gifted her with some of the American greats- with the Queen's Suite and Appalachian Springs and others.

She hadn't actually smiled at all, even when he had mentioned how she'd always talked about hearing the classics of America, but he knew she loved it when he saw her humming softly in the kitchen.

Starfire had also liked those melodies.

"Don't think about her."

Richard started in surprise at this- he'd almost forgotten both his (ex) teammate, as well as her paranormal abilities.

"Ra-"

She crossed her legs and glanced back slightly, laying the bowl on the coffee table.

"I don't want to hear it, Richard. This conversation should have taken place years ago."

Why was she so calm?

"And even though, perhaps, it would be much easier now, I don't want to deal with all of that extraneous emotional baggage you happen to be carrying as of late."

Raven faced him slowly and seriously.

"I won't- honestly….just, later- when this is over; we talk."

Sigh.

"Fine."

Arctic Monkeys plus Dandy Warhols plus Neon Trees- also, guys with mohawks make me a happy girl.


	10. Chapter 10

"So this is it."

Dick laid the blueprints out on the table, and pointed to a picture of a woman, dark haired, and eyes glinting severely beneath her glasses.

"Cameron Anna Marshall. 38 years old, joint-owner of the Marshall-Cain company, and has been leading her particular branch for nearly 15 years. She's extremely intelligent- graduated with a doctorate in microbiology from MIT, and studied extensively on the human genome. The former Marshall Pharmaceuticals company specialized in rehabilitating drugs, but also funded a separate organization which researched genetic manipulation as well as metahuman abilities."

Roy cut in.

"We'll be infiltrating and hacking in to the databases of the companies' offices, then going to the research facilities to _stop_ this nonsense once and for all, our goal being to find out why STAR put out a hit out on you."

"Let's do it."

x

x

x

Raven sat quietly in the back of the van, sorting through the various tools they would need, and listening to Richard's directions.

_Smoke grenade. Left pocket of the duffle bag._

"There are 8 of us in all- Garth, Isaiah, and Toni will eliminate the guards planted-"

_here. here. and here. Communications devices for every person_.

"Wally monitors the security cameras, directs us where we need to go, from-"

_There. Beretta M9 going into a leg holster, a prayer we'll never use it._

"Jen hacks the security controls, joins myself, Raven, and Roy in, and the four of us will search Marshall's computer, files, etc."

x

x

x

"_Understood?"_

_Kori nods sharply, as do the other members of the Titans team._

"_The creature in there- it's big; Star, you'll have to scope it out before we can go in."_

"_We'll destroy the labs, and all of the enzymatic cultures in there, prevent another of the monsters from getting out- _they break things down, destroy-_ contact us once you see it."_

"_Uh, dude?" speaks Beast Boy quietly._

"_Isn't that a little, like, dangerous?"_

_Robin pins him down with a stare._

"_Yes. But it has to be done."_

_x_

_x_

_x  
><em>

They pulled up, got out in front of the famously glassy building, and distributed all necessary equipment.

The security guards directly inside the high walls surrounding it were unsuspecting, even as three masked vigilantes picked them off with tranquilizer darts.

The 5 remaining members of the team stood below, at the gate, and waited.

"And we're live in 3…2…1….RUN."

_Garth will temporarily disable the exterior security cameras. We'll have 20 seconds to get inside._

Jen picked the lock hurriedly, and one by one, they slipped in, mere dark shadows playing their way to the compact, unmarked door across the hall.

Inside, she easily disabled the security guard, and ushered Wally in, before closing the door softly behind her.

The four walked in complete silence for a time, the only sound the soft padding of their shoes on the floors, until-

"Hold on guys," Wally crackled, "there's someone coming down the hall- it's Marshall…"

The faint click of her heels as she passed their shadowed faces disappeared soon afterwards.

"She's gone. She left."

Richard breathed out softly, then peered around the corner.

"Let's g-"

_Whumph_!

x

x

x

_Whumph!_

The black streak formed itself into a young figure, black haired and vaguely Chinese in appearance, who stood over their fallen leader before-

Suddenly in front of them, taking Roy down with a roundhouse kick that barely clipped the edge of Jen's head-

The pink haired girl ducked, wincing, before striking lithely out at the air, too late.

At the last moment, she caught the swinging arm and drove it away from her, just as Raven sent a kick directly towards the back of their assailant's knee-

Which instead hit Jen in the thigh.

"Jesus!"

Angry, Raven splayed out her hands, and let the fierce, empty energy of her powers strike the young girl- for she was in fact a girl, across the stomach, pinning her against the wall.

Jen glared.

The girl did nothing, and abruptly, Raven gasped.

"_Close your eyes. Don't flinch."_

_BLAM BLAM BLAM_

_A violent, red hot pain rose up on her stomach and chest, marked the sudden splattering of blood on the ground._

"_Good girl."_

The empath glanced over at Richard, slowly getting up and shaking his head.

"She's in pain. Her name is Cassandra."

He looked back.

"Heal her."

x

x

x

"_HEAL HER, RAVEN!"_

_Something warm and salty splashed on her cheek, even as she bent over her fallen friend, whose breathing shallowed with every exhale._

"_I, I can't…"_

_Sob, her voice racked with so much pain, and a great weight on her chest, on her heart, that took her breath away, just as it took Kori's._

_Soon enough, the blue glow of her powers sealed the deep gashing wound on the Tameranian's stomach and pelvis, but too late-_

"_Come on comeoncomeon…"_

_PushPushPush_

_BREATHE_

_Push-_

"_Sh- she's- GODDAMMIT KORI! BREATHE!"_

_Deep, racking breaths, as if the empath and the leader, with their own huffing and sobbing, could perhaps instill in the fallen warrior a necessary pump of her lungs, of her heart._

_The thick beating, as if wrapped in swathes of wool, slowed…_

_Then stopped._

* * *

><p>well now, it appears that Kori is completely and utterly dead. also, a little cameo of Cassandra Cain (I mean, CAIN is the other joint owner of the company) as a badass little asian girl assassin, whose father did in fact play 'two for flinching' with a gun...<p> 


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